And, pale, trembling, and terrified, she clung to his arm.
With an awful malediction, he hurled her from him, and sent her reeling across the room.
She struck against the sharp edge of the table, and fell to the ground, her face covered with blood.
But he heeded her not. Seizing his hat and coat, he rushed from the house, as if driven by ten thousand furies. And his face, upturned to the light, was the face of a demon.
Three hours later, a boat, containing two persons, put off for Campbell's Isle. One, was a rough fisher-boy, half simpleton, half idiot; the other, a tall, dark man, who sat in the stern, his hat drawn far down over his brow, the collar of his coat turned up, leaving nothing to be seen, but a pair of wild, black, maniac eyes, that glared like live coals, with the fire of madness.
CHAPTER XIX.
THAT DAY.
"The day is lowering, stilly black,
Sleeps the grim wave."
"Really, Sibyl, my love, you are getting to be a most singular girl. Two or three days ago you were all in the dismals; then, after the party, you got as amiable and bright as a June morning; and scarcely had you promised to stay with me here for an indefinite length of time, and I was congratulating myself on having secured you here, when Guy brings you a tiny note from this little blue-eyed island-girl, Christie, and lo! you are off on the wing again, and I am left to go moping about like a poor old hen-turkey with the distemper."
"But my dear Mrs. Brantwell," said Sibyl, "you have Mrs. Courtney, who is twice as agreeable and lively a companion as I am. It's impossible for you to go moping around, as you say, when she is here."